Tao didn’t speak.

  Was it the fear that even a single word might leak something to Beric?

  Or was it understanding? The knowledge that speaking now would only deepen the wound already opening beneath him?

  As the third round began, Tao’s body started to tremble. It was subtle at first, just a slight stiffness in his posture, but it grew more noticeable with every passing second. And with that tremor came something else, something he had buried long ago.

  It was then that a memory forced itself upward from the deepest recesses of his mind.

  A memory of a village.

  A dirty and poor one.

  It was a place filled with what the world liked to call the scum of humanity. A village no “civilized” person would ever dare step foot in—out of fear, or disgust, or the belief that merely passing through might infect them with something incurable.

  And they wouldn’t have been wrong.

  Just not in the way they thought.

  The disease that plagued that place wasn’t one that could be cured with a vial of medicine.

  It was despair.

  True despair is a savage beast. It is the kind that doesn’t just rot the body, but it also hollows out the soul of an entire community. It’s the kind that takes the so-called “miracle of life” and twists it into currency. For you see, birth wasn’t celebrated there. It was valued. Children weren’t given any second looks as they were pampered just enough to be attractive enough to be handed off to perverted nobles through intermediaries who did their dirty work for them.

  Food was scarce too. What little could be scavenged was often no more than the waste of monsters and animals.

  It was a village so exhausted by suffering that no one had the energy left to ask why they lived that way.

  You should know about places like this.

  There are plenty of them in your world, too.

  The fact that you’re even allowed to read this is proof of the luck you were born into.

  Don’t worry, you’re not to blame for the circumstances others were born into.

  But if you walk around believing you’re a good person, despite having done nothing to ease the despair that thrives in your world, then that’s different.

  You might argue there’s nothing you can do. You don’t have the power nor the money to do anything.

  But that’s exactly it.

  You’re only in the position you’re in because of luck. It wasn’t because of good deeds or good karma that blessed you to live such a life.

  You just happened to be born into it.

  So stop believing that bullshit.

  You’re just another human who happened to be born differently.

  If you disagree, then that’s fine. Why should some words on a screen make you believe any different?

  You should only believe them if they carry some hints of truth behind them.

  Say for example, of people and a way of life that exists in your world as well?

  Regardless, suffering exists in all worlds. And it dominated the lives of these villagers.

  And they had gotten used to it.

  They told themselves they’d simply drawn the short end of the stick. Maybe if the gods were kinder, and maybe if fate had tilted slightly in their favor, it’d be different. If just one thing had changed, they would be the ones reclining in fine chairs, servants kneeling to wash their feet, plates filled with real food—fruit, meat, things they’d only heard about.

  But what could they do?

  Some tried to rebel. A few, desperate and starving, with bodies stunted and broken, tried to fight back. But that failed miserably. What could they possibly do against trained knights paid to protect the ones in power?

  At least rebellion promised an end to it all.

  But who’s to say death would be merciful? Would such despicable nobles really settle for something so kind?

  Eventually, the village gave up.

  They accepted that waste would be their food. That love was pointless when children were sold away. That dreaming of rebellion was wasted energy better spent surviving another day.

  Since their suffering was just bad luck, what else could they do?

  It’s not like they had a target to fight.

  And so they lived like that.

  For years.

  But an unexpected variable always appears.

  It was born as a boy.

  His name was Tao.

  But in this village, girls were valuable. Boys were not.

  The boys were left to die. Sometimes they were used as bait for predators. Or they were sold for scraps to wandering traders. Or, when times were especially desperate, they would be ea-

  …….No. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

  Let’s move on.

  However, Tao was born during a relatively stable period. Stable, meaning the village needed extra hands. And so they kept him.

  That’s what he became.

  But his mind was different.

  He saw things differently.

  He saw the pitiful belief the village shared as an unfair lifestyle that was forced upon them. He questioned things, demanded answers, but he was only met with dull looks and the same explanation that they were dealt with a bad hand.

  “We were unlucky,” they said. “So we survive.”

  But Tao didn’t want to survive.

  He wanted more.

  He wanted to read, to taste real food, to feel the weight of a coin in his hand—a coin that could buy anything he wished for.

  To his village, he was seen as a delusional but intelligent boy that spoke tall tales. Maybe, if things were different, he’d be a respectable young man.

  What a shame, they all thought.

  Tao hated that.

  He hated being told to accept scraps. He hated that his dreams meant nothing because of where he was born.

  Maybe it was ego, or even disgust at how he was forced to live. It could have even been both.

  Whatever it was, it burned fiercely.

  And then he saw them.

  Knights.

  They came occasionally to collect an “order.” Tao watched them in awe—their clean armor, refined speech, equipment worth more than his entire existence.

  That life was real.

  And it was only a few steps away.

  But it was a few too many to take.

  Until one day, during an exchange, a gold coin slipped free.

  It rolled straight to him.

  But, the thing is, no one was supposed to be there. Only the village elders were permitted to witness the deals. Anyone else was forbidden, since so long as no one saw, the nobles remained unaccusable.

  Not that the village had power anyway.

  But Tao was different from them. Of course he was.

  And he did his best to be sneaky and hide behind large bushes while watching the deals. At first he was curious, but the curiosity burned even brighter when he saw the knights that would come.

  For him, this was the only time he could get a glimpse into the other life.

  And when the coin rolled to his feet, something compelled him to move.

  Was it greed that made him want to hold such a valuable thing? Was it out of childish goodwill to return it before it was lost? Or was it the desire to seek acknowledgement of his existence, to be known and be set aside from his village?

  He never knew.

  The moment the coin touched his hand, a sword flashed.

  Cold metal pressed against his neck, and fear erased his every thought.

  With a rageful look and vile words that contained the venom of a thousand snakes, the knight threatened to kill him.

  Tao's mind was fast, but even it couldn’t keep up with the continuous cries of danger and help that poured into it. It was a series of internal cries that sensed an impending doom.

  Tao did not like the feeling.

  With a cool and sharp metal feeling to his neck, Tao could only freeze in complete fear as his mouth froze shut.

  While the knight became increasingly angry with each second of no response, the elder attending the deal merely watched on with a tired look.

  Was it not worth the effort?

  Isn’t it your responsibility to save me?

  But Tao realized that, with his legs slowly starting to give out, and his eyes becoming wet from tearing up, that he was the same.

  He wasn’t moving either.

  Did he see no point in saving his own life either?

  Was he just like the elder?

  Like the rest of them?

  Things were a blur, with the knight barking at him with a seething look, threatening to kill him, with the elder sometimes flinching when the knight turned to yell at him.

  Tao was now completely overtaken by fear.

  It was a primal fear when one realized the lower position they were in. It was the type of acknowledgement that made one cower and tremble as they understood that they were at the mercy of another.

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  That there was nothing they could do.

  Tao’s entire life could end right here. Just because he was curious, he would have to face death because of it. All of his dreams, his anger, his envy, it would disappear the moment the knight decided to.

  His life was never his.

  It was always out of his control.

  All of this pain and suffering was because,

  He was unlucky.

  Tao didn’t know why, but eventually, the knight left.

  The elder didn’t pay him no mind as they returned, and no one really spoke about it after.

  And as Tao went to bed that same night, thinking about it all, he held the gold coin tightly.

  The knight had seemed to forget about the coin.

  Tao wondered if he was in a rush. Was he taking too long? Did Tao interfere somehow?

  Whatever the case, Tao kept the coin close. He didn’t let anyone else see it.

  He wanted to hide it in a place that only he knew.

  For you see, while it was at first a memory of his deepest fear, it had also become a symbol of his anger.

  He was terrified, but he had contained livid rage.

  He hated how weak he was. He hated how easily his life could have ended. He hated how he had done nothing to change his own life, to live it in his own way, and almost die before it could happen.

  But most of all, he hated the feeling of helplessness before the knight.

  Tao vowed from that day on to become strong, strong enough to never experience that feeling again.

  He didn’t care how long it would take. One day, he would reach a position where he would always be the one above.

  He would never feel like he was at the mercy of another again.

  But an unexpected variable always occurs.

  And one day, the gold coin was found.

  That same day, Tao ran away while keeping the gold coin.

  He didn’t really feel any sadness on leaving them behind.

  It’s not like he was shown anything that would make him regret this decision.

  Starting a new life wasn’t difficult.

  Tao used the gold coin to clean himself up, get some food, and secure room and board for a bit while finding a job.

  And wouldn’t you know it, he found one.

  He lived a simple life with that job, but even though the gold coin was now gone, he never forgot that anger. Even after many years, and becoming an adult, he never forgot it.

  And through all of these years, he began to study people.

  He learned how people lied, to see their deepest secrets, to read their thoughts, their hearts, and how to use it all against them.

  He spent each day studying a random person, taking notes of their expressions, their body language, all of it, all to feel like he would always be a step ahead.

  And one day, a festival of some sorts had arrived.

  And it was there that Tao found many people of many different origins.

  And yet, he could read them all the same.

  That’s when he came up with an idea.

  A game.

  It was the type of game anybody could join, but the type where Tao would always win.

  As long as Tao could find an accomplice.

  But this is where Tao’s effort came in handy, as Tao found the perfect choice: a desperate bartender who went above and beyond for just an extra tip.

  And Tao knew why after studying Sarah from the shadows.

  He watched as she worked day and night just to scrape up enough money for medicine for her ailing mother. Being an only child with no father, taking care of her mother who had a chronic illness was an almost impossible task.

  But Tao wanted to be sure.

  He used some money to ensure that the doctor would specifically raise his prices for just Sarah and her mother.

  And eventually, after Sarah broke down one day at the thought of losing her mother, it was the day that Tao called her over to refill a drink.

  It was the day the game of Six Cups was formed.

  The game where Sarah would use her magic to clean the tray and glass cups, to reflect the cups and coins off the tray, into the glass cup, and back into her own tray. As long as the colors and the general locations of the cups were visible, Sarah could easily ascertain which cups held which ones.

  And when the game had begun, and when Sarah would resume walking around, she’d give unnoticeable cues to Tao.

  That’s why the cups were in such specific patterns.

  And as for Tao, well, his years of studying people had paid off to do well in such a game.

  And as more and more time passed, with his reputation growing more and more, so did his competitors.

  But so did his ego as he won every single one of them.

  So did his connections grow as he played with nobles and rich people.

  Tao was proud of himself.

  He really had reached the position he dreamed of as a child.

  This was the other life.

  But, why was it?

  Why, Tao thought, as he looked right at Beric, and as his mind returned to the rest, was it,

  That the child in front of him struck that same fear back into him?

  “This one,” Beric said, pointing to a cup.

  The cup was slid across the table toward him.

  Tao knew immediately that it was bronze.

  Beric lifted it, his fingers steady as he peeked underneath.

  But why was Beric still playing?

  Beric knew. Tao was certain of that now. There was no doubt left in his mind. The ghost story earlier of the reflection, along with calling Sarah over, speaking quietly, forcing her reactions. It all pointed to the same conclusion.

  So why continue?

  Was he bluffing?

  No. That didn’t make sense. That story hadn’t been a coincidence. It was a tell. And what Beric had done afterward only confirmed it.

  So then why would he—

  “It’s the gold one,” Beric said out loud.

  What?

  The words landed heavily, rippling through the crowd. Low, startled murmurs spread among the spectators, surprised but careful not to grow too loud.

  What was he doing? Why would he blatantly lie like that?

  “Tao,” Beric added, looking directly at him now, “it’s the gold one.”

  Tao’s breathing hitched.

  The rules didn’t say anything about this. Of course they didn’t. Tao had never considered that someone would do this.

  Why would you?

  There was no advantage. Tao already knew which cup held which coin. Just saying this out loud would—

  Tao shivered as realization struck him.

  Beric wanted this.

  He wanted everyone to hear.

  If the cup was revealed to be bronze and Tao didn’t fall for it, there would only be two conclusions: either Tao had cheated and knew the placement ahead of time, or Tao had somehow read Beric.

  And if it was gold, the same logic applied, especially if Tao pushed his bet higher, even up to four.

  But what if Tao did fall for the bronze?

  If he stole up to two and Beric folded, Tao would lose one. And by now, the general belief among the crowd was already set: Tao cheated. Everyone assumed he knew the placements.

  So that outcome would be strange.

  And strange situations invite speculation.

  Multiple explanations would surface. Maybe Tao knew and was planning for a later round. Maybe he was baiting Beric into overextending, hoping desperation would force a mistake. Or maybe—

  Maybe Tao simply didn’t cheat this time.

  The first two explanations were familiar. They’d happened before. People were comfortable with them.

  But the third?

  That one didn’t fit.

  Because everything up to now—every round, every past game—had reinforced the idea that Tao always cheated. There was no reason to stop now.

  And yet that very inconsistency was exactly why no one would consider it.

  People cling to familiar explanations. When faced with something that doesn’t align, they default to what makes sense to them.

  So if Tao lost a small round here, no one would think he’d stopped cheating. They’d assume it was part of a plan.

  But if Tao truly did stop cheating against Beric now, many would believe that Beric had somehow figured it out and forced Tao’s hand.

  But Beric hadn’t said anything. Which meant that wasn’t his goal.

  From what Tao could gather, Beric wanted something else.

  Right now, his aim was to make everyone believe that the two of them were still genuinely playing.

  That’s why he said it was gold.

  It was a bluff.

  Beric wanted Tao to bite.

  If Tao lost, the spectators would dismiss it as another calculated move. No one would think Beric had already seen through everything.

  And as Tao reached this conclusion and slowly lifted his gaze, he flinched.

  Beric was smiling.

  It wasn’t the same as before.

  Back then, the face staring down at him had been filled with rage, with malice, with the threat of death made manifest.

  This smile was calm and controlled.

  Yet the feeling it invoked was identical.

  The two faces looked nothing alike, and yet both carried the same bloodthirst that made Tao’s spine go cold.

  The same fear.

  The same realization that his life, his future, everything he had spent so long to gain, was once again in someone else’s hands.

  If Tao refused to play along now, Beric could simply reveal everything. Right here. In front of everyone. He could expose the cheating and destroy Tao’s reputation in a single breath.

  The only reason he hadn’t was because he wanted something more.

  Money, probably.

  If Beric revealed the truth, Tao would be despised, and every coin he’d earned would be seized and returned.

  But if Beric won, if everyone believed he’d simply outplayed Tao, then all of it would belong to him.

  This entire game was just—

  No.

  There was more to it than that.

  Tao clutched his head, thoughts spiraling.

  This wasn’t necessary if it was just about gold.

  But it was necessary if it was about something else.

  About ego.

  The need to know without doubt that you were better.

  Tao cursed silently as he looked back at Beric.

  The anger rose again, hot and bitter.

  He had lost.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Tao said we were similar.

  After he tried to steal for two over my bronze coin, I folded.

  At first, I thought he was wrong. Or maybe I just wanted to believe he was. It's undoubtedly a huge ego, since I needed to believe I was better than him.

  The score stood at nine to eight, still in Tao’s favor.

  I’d told myself that the reason I was playing was to win the entire pot, for money. I believed that, or at least I pretended to.

  Tao chose a cup, his eyes flicking toward me.

  But after hearing his words, I realized the truth. That wasn’t why I was here. I didn’t join for the pot. I joined to—

  I scoffed.

  —to look cool.

  I looked back at Tao.

  “Is it the gold one?”

  Tao slowly shook his head.

  “I fold.” I then said.

  The cup was revealed to hold a second bronze coin.

  That’s been my problem for a while now. This quiet, ugly need for acceptance. I hate it so much that I lie to myself, dress it up as something else, pretend I’m acting for nobler reasons.

  It was my turn again.

  I didn’t hesitate as I chose a cup.

  I lifted it.

  Silver.

  I did it to convince them.

  Myself.

  And—

  You.

  That I was good enough.

  I looked at Tao. “It’s silver.”

  He shifted uncomfortably before finally murmuring, “......I fold.”

  The cup was revealed. Silver, just as I’d said.

  The score flipped around, nine to ten, now in my favor.

  I think I’m done with that way of thinking.

  His turn.

  I’m done chasing my own delusions.

  He chose shakily.

  No more pretending.

  I exhaled.

  “Is it the gold one?”

  He clenched his jaw and nodded.

  “I’ll steal for two.”

  Tao quietly tried to rebuy for three.

  I pushed it to four.

  He ended it at five.

  When he lifted the cup and retrieved the gold coin, the situation was clear. The two remaining cups held the last bronze and the silver.

  My turn.

  “You were right about my need for validation.”

  Tao stiffened at my sudden words.

  I picked a cup.

  “And you were right about my delusions.”

  I checked beneath it. Bronze.

  “And finally, you were right when you said we were similar.”

  I met his gaze.

  “But you were wrong in thinking you were the one who was different.”

  Tao folded. The bronze coin remained with me.

  “Just like I had a weakness that relied on others, so did you.”

  Only one coin remained. Tao hesitated.

  “While you identified mine, you never looked for your own. You assumed that because we were similar, we shared the same flaw. You thought that overcoming that made you different.”

  He finally chose.

  “But I was the one who overcame it.”

  I stole for two.

  “For you see, Tao, your weakness isn’t the same. You’ve always believed you needed to rely solely on yourself. You believed in control. You convinced yourself that this, this point in your life, was where you belonged.”

  Tao rebought for three.

  “Which is why, the moment you relied on someone else, you were too focused on yourself to notice the danger. You never saw your own blind spot.”

  I folded. Tao retrieved the silver coin.

  “You needed the help of another.”

  I paused.

  “You’re competent and smart. So smart, and so certain you deserved more than what you were cursed with. Driven by this, you fought, and you climbed higher than anyone ever imagined you could.”

  I looked at him.

  “And you still missed it.”

  “You relied on someone else, forgetting that their competence didn’t match your own.”

  You’re intelligent, but you're also prideful. And I can smell that hunger for validation. It's because all of this that I understand you.

  I know you.

  And I know that even with every tool at your disposal—money, leverage, preparation—you still failed.

  You spent so long polishing yourself, making yourself shine like gold, that you forgot what you were to begin with.

  A worthless bronze coin.

  You forgot your place.

  “I know my weakness now. And I know there’s no point in running from it anymore. You, on the other hand, still choose to live blinded by your own delusions.”

  As the game came to an end, Adam announced the result.

  “Beric wins. Nine to ten.”

  “That,” I said, “is the difference between us.”

  And that difference is what made you realize what you have to do.

  You have to follow my lead.

  You have to play it, so it looks like I simply outmaneuvered you in the small exchanges. Nothing more.

  Some will question it.

  Some will suspect there’s more.

  But that’s all they’ll ever know.

  As for us, Tao—

  Accept it.

  These are our places in the world.